Chauffeur// yoonmin

Part 1

Jimin. (Authors p.o.v)

A chilling breeze sent a shiver down his slumped spine. Leaves lay on the ground like fallen soldiers, another drifting to the pavement as a strand of his once black hair slid down over his pale face. The occasional car drove by whilst people glanced over trying to figure out why he was sat all alone by the side of the road. Waiting. But for what? They questioned. That is a question they may never find the answer to.

When the charcoal BMW rolled into sight, joy took over as Jimin lept up; almost able to see the warmth of the interior.

"You're late." the simple words made Chunhoon, his loyal chauffeur, nod in recognition of his wrong doing. 

"Something came up," Chunhoon replyed, eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead.

"And that would be..." Jimins bored voice asked, trying to continue the conversation as he hated the cold silence there would be otherwise.

"Something far beyond your understanding." and just like that the quiet took over. His mind wandered where his escort could have possibly of been when his one purpose is to simply drive the boy from place to place as he pleases. Maybe that was too harsh, he's not an animal Jimin's angelic trait whispered, but as per usual the devils voice was louder.

Driving up the quiet avenue that the Park family's oversized house sat, Jimin could tell something was amiss. Chunhoon typed a code into the small keypad at the front gates before carrying on up the path.

"Go." the cold word made Jimin jolt out of his hazy dream and scrabbling to get out the vehicle, turning around to shut the door, only to see it already half way down the street. Usually Chunhoon would have entered the grand building with Jimin and greet his mother and father but it appeared this wouldnt be the case today.

"Peculiar," he muttered, pondering where his trustworthy coachman could be off to. 

Deep in thought, Jimin opened the heavy door to be greeted with his fathers expressionless face."Take your time." the heartless man remarked, rolling his tired eyes, "dismissed." With that he hastily marched up the grand staircase, down the grand staircase to his grand bedroom, closing the grand door before briefly perching on his grand bed.

Jimin's P.o.v

After giving a brief glance at the door, just to check if anyone was to come in, I flung open my wardrobe doors and stepped inside, drowned in the clean smell of washing detergent. Dropping to his hands and knees as I crawled under what seemed like endless shirts, trousers, blazers and coats until a small white door came into view. Inside was a small room with a small window, a small desk, a small whiteboard, a small lamp and a small laptop. Blankets and pillows covered what little floor space there was. Scribbled pen filled the walls. Different notes, ideas, dreams, plans, songs, stories, films, reminders. Anything I wanted to remember was on there. One wall was plastered in post-it notes. 'not confirmed ideas' I liked to put it. Things I wasn't certain of yet but, when I was sure they were valid I would take down the post-it note and write it on the wall with the others. In the corner were a pile of discarded ideas that proved no use to me.

Once I had slumped down on a the desk chair and started to think, the small voice that wasnt a voice inside my head took over. My thought train focused on where Chunhoon could be. Minutes turned to hours and soon enough there was a faint knock on the door. Shaken by the sudden noise, I glared at the door, wandering just how anyone could've found it, found me.